Never Say Never
by Kaslyna
Summary: Set after the 100th episode. Booth and Brennan learn to love. Rated 'M' for later situations. Angsty and dark and romantic. Not totally AU; some parts are completely canon. You'll see how the song fits soon enough! Please read and review! :D
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This does not use lyrics, but you will soon see how it is based on the song "Never Say Never" by The Fray. Give it a listen if you haven't already heard it. Set shortly after the 100th episode; spoilers, of course, for that episode. I am writing this because in my short life I have screwed up every relationship that was meaningful. So, since it's too late for me and I'm already sad and lonely, I will right the wrong of the end of the 100th episode. Not right away, of course. This is because I cannot ever fix what I've done but I can fix this. This is for Brandon, the only man I could ever truly trust. This is for Dillon, for the pain and emptiness he made me feel. This is for Shelby, for teaching me how to open my heart. This is for Sloane, who taught me love can be cruel. And lastly, this is for Kim so she may understand my wounded heart. This story is painful and angsty and romantic and smutty and convoluted. Trying to stay as canon as I possibly can. According to me, the 100th episode took place in March some time, and the 101th in late March or early April. Just saying. :/**

**Disclaimer: Bones belongs to Fox and Hart Hanson and God knows who else. :/ I own nothing but the plot bunny.**

"You still hungry?" he asks. She nods against his shoulder.

"Great," he says.

They are standing at the reflecting pool at the mall in DC. He gently pushes her forward, absentmindedly tucking a loose auburn curl behind her ear. She blushes. He sighs, wistfully.

"What do you see?" he inquires.

"I see... me. And you. I'm really hungry, Booth. Can't we just get something to eat?" she furrows her brow in confusion and purses her lips.

"You wanna know... just let me tell you what I see first, okay?"

"Okay," she murmurs, nodding.

"I see _you_, Bones, and yes, I see myself. But that's beside the point. Because I see you, all of you, and you know what?"

"What?" her voice is a shaky whisper now.

"I like what I see. Bones. I've known you for six years and we have been partners for five. I know everything and I've seen all of you, the good and the bad. And you know what? I love you, Bones. All of you. And if I was afraid or scared or unsure or whatever, I would've left long ago. But I see you- all of you -and I love you still. I see what's in here-" he taps her head, "and in here-" he gestures to her heart, "And I've seen and experienced it all and I know you, Bones. I love you, okay? Just trust in that, accept that. Don't say it back if you can't mean it. But just know that I love you and I'll never be able to move on, I was just trying to help my broken- excuse me, crushed -heart heal. But I won't, I can't. I hope and pray you'll soon see this, Bones. Please- be my friend? Please, just... just be you, Bones. Nothing more. And certainly nothing left."

She was not only crying at this point, she was full-blown _sobbing_. If it was anyone else besides Booth she wouldn't have felt comfortable, but she did. He pulled her into his strong arms and murmured comforting, soothing, hushed words into her hair.

"I love you, Bones. I really, truly do. I love you. I'll prove it to you, Bones, I swear I will, if it's the last thing I do. Shh, you're safe with me. You're safe."

* * *

They had eaten quietly at the diner; he had driven her home and seen her safely to her apartment. She invited him in for coffee; he politely declined, stating that it was late and he needed to get home and clean because Parker was visiting that weekend. She nodded, understanding that he didn't want to risk complicating matters further, and wished him a goodnight. Hesitantly, she leaned in, kissed him on the cheek, pulled away, and smiled shyly. He kissed her cheek and smiled, wistfully, at her.

"Night, Bones. Sleep well."

"You too, Booth," she says, yawning. He hugs her and then quickly leaves before doing something he will surely regret in the end.

She goes inside and pours herself a glass of wine that he'd bought for her birthday a couple years back. She smiles sadly as she sips it, sitting Indian-style on the couch. When the glass is done she cleans up and dresses in a pair of grey sweats and a grey Jeffersonian sweatshirt. She pulls her hair back into a ponytail. She goes to bed and takes two hours, until around one in the morning, before she finally falls asleep.

And naturally, like any damned clichéd love story, she dreams of Booth.

But this story is real, _very_ real. She's the heroine; he's the hero. And it sure as hell isn't all fun and games.

* * *

She is up at seven. She doesn't bother to change before going on a run; it is one mile long. Once back at home Brennan showers, changes, and eats a quick breakfast of an omelette, orange juice, and coffee. Then she brushes her teeth again and heads off to work. Angela is in her office and she sighs.

"Hey!" Angela squeals as Brennan sinks into her chair, dreading her latest scheme.

"Hey. Sorry. Didn't sleep too well last night."

"Are you okay, sweetie?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well. Uh, Sweets..."

"Oh."

"Yeah. When you're ready, we'll talk, okay? And Cam wants you to be here-" she hands her a sheet of paper, "ASAP. Okay? Later, sweetie!"

With that Angela bounces out and Brennan sighs, shaking her head, smiling and laughing softly under her breath. She exhales and nods slightly as she reads the directions. Then with a satisfied huff she leaves.

Her drive to the crime scene is relatively uneventful, save for the traffic. It's absolutely horrendous, but when the hell isn't it? She feels a migraine coming on and squeezes her eyes shut; she only snaps them open when she realizes she has to drive.

The crime scene is a motel room, decent and nice enough. The body, however, was stuffed under the sink, covered in cat litter, for quite a while; perhaps three to four months, Brennan estimates. Booth finds her wallet and ID behind the toilet; she's Marcy Layla Jenson, aged twenty-four, born September 16, 1986. Her estimated time of death is sometime around November or December 2009. It's quite obvious she wasn't killed here. She was discovered by the young couple renting the room; George Dalton, who is threatening to sue the motel, and his younger fiance, Kailee Carson, who had wanted to clean the dresser in the room. Looking for cleaning supplies led to the discovery of poor Marcy Jenson.

Brennan brings the bones to the lab and everyone gets into order. Angela's working on facial reconstruction so that Marcy's survivors, her husband Joel and her son, Henry, can positively identify her. Now she's cleaning the bones. When they are done, she gets to examining them. Daisy is hovering, high off of God-knows-what and Brennan really, really wants to shoot her because she's spouting theories and squealing about her engagement.

"Daisy, shut the hell up, will you?" she turns and there's Booth, her grimacing savior. She mouthes 'thank you' and he mouthes in return 'anytime'.

"Right. Sorry, Agent Booth! So anyways, we wanna get married around New Year's. Isn't that so romantic? Don't you just want to _melt_, Doctor Brennan?"

"Kill me now," she mumbles under her breath.

Booth chuckles and Daisy shoots them both quizzical looks; they return them with glares.

"Well, Marcy was obviously in excellent health, though I _did_, however, happen to stumble upon this bone anomaly..."

Booth is watching Brennan, slightly mesmerized by her as she shuffles about. She's so beautiful, inside and out, yet she doesn't even realize it, he notices with a twinge of sadness and regret and guilt, even.

Daisy began gushing again and the dynamic duo groaned and left, grumbling about being hungry. Daisy chuckled, shaking her head and smiling deviously.

_Perfect_, she thought to herself, _Daisy, one, Booth and Brennan, zero!_

**A/N: Do you like it? (: Please do review. It is okay if you do not, however! What's going to happen at lunch? Why's Daisy keeping score? Find out next chapter!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I really hope to be able to update constantly, but school has started so I'm not sure. :/ Anyways, I'm gonna wrap this case up within a few chapters, then we'll get to Death of the Queen Bee, then probably one or two non-canon cases before the next canon case.**

**Disclaimer: We went over this in the last chapter.**

"Ugh. Daisy really needs someone to duct-tape her mouth shut," Brennan groans once they are outside. Booth chuckles softly at the image her words conjure.

"Diner?" he asks.

She shrugs then says, "Sure. Hey, Booth, maybe tonight you can come over to my office and we'll discuss this case over takeout?"

"Sounds great," he agrees, easily, and walks beside her to his car. They drive to the diner, park, and sit at their usual table.

Booth orders a burger, fries, and strawberry shake; Brennan orders a lunch-sized salad and a Coke. They chat lightly before their food finally arrives. They eat quietly, Brennan taking the occasional fry, until she notices him dunking his fries into the shake.

"Oh. Sorry. Parker got me into this, it's not so gross but it's a bad habit," he explains in response to her puzzled expression. She chuckles.

"Maybe on Sunday you guys could come over for lunch and then we can go to the park," she suggests, mildly, gently, "If I'm not working too much, that is. I planned on writing this weekend, but it's not too big of a priority right now. Besides, I'd much rather spend time with you and Parker, to be truthful."

"That sounds great, Bones. Maybe we'll stop by around one."

"Okay," she nods her agreement.

He drives her back to the lab, and as she is getting out he hollers, "Hey, Bones?"

"Yes, Booth?" she asks, turning to smile softly at him.

"I don't ever want you to change, Bones," he admits.

"I don't want you to change either."

"Somehow, Bones, I'm gonna prove it to you. Someday."

* * *

Angela has been able to give a face to Marcy and Joel and Henry are coming in later that afternoon to ID it. Right now Booth is planning how to question them. He figures he'll let Angela help with Henry because she's great with kids and he and Bones will take Joel. He's run this by both of them and they've both agreed it'll work out. Right now he's planning strategy, in case Joel is uncooperative. He hopes he isn't.

Two hours later and he's in the interrogation room with Joel Jenson and Brennan. He's eyeing her and it's pissing him off. Henry is with Angela in Booth's office playing with some of Parker's toys. Joel Jenson, age twenty-seven, is a total sleazebag if he's ever seen one, but at the very least he's helpful.

Marcy was a working girl from when she was fifteen until she was nineteen. He hired her a couple of times and she had gotten pregnant with Henry. It still took her two years to make enough cash to convince her pimp to let her go. Then she'd reunited with Joel and they had dated on and off. She had gotten a job at a strip club Joel's buddy Derek owned when she was twenty-one. When she was twenty-two they had gotten married in Las Vegas. Despite that she still worked as a stripper and Joel as a mechanic. Henry was seven years old. She sometimes went off with "clients", or basically eager customers, and entertained small parties. Joel's guess was that she had ran off with one of them. He was a loser and a slimeball, but he sure as hell wasn't a killer.

Angela, on the other hand, discovered that Henry was shy and didn't talk too much. Even still she someone managed to coax the boy to tell her a story about his mother and father. She deduced, from the story and the boy's tone of voice, that his parents did not get along too well, and that he did not understand his mother, nor her job or her "friends".

Either way, they had enough information to start a list of suspects, and despite Joel's flirtatious manner with Brennan Booth is quite satisfied that they'll have this wrapped up soon enough. He's cheerful and tells Brennan that he'll be by her office at around seven to discuss the case and have dinner. She agrees and tells him she will work on her book for an hour or so before getting back to Marcy.

It's simple.

Like nothing else ever is anymore between them.

* * *

"Parker wants to go swimming. If that's okay with you, Bones."

"Of course," she agrees easily, "It's an indoor pool, so even though it's March it won't be too bad. You guys can come over Sunday anytime between eleven and one, we'll eat lunch, then we'll swim, and then we can go to the park. Like I said, I'm free."

"Sounds good," he smiles, "Thanks, Bones."

"You're welcome, Booth," she grins.

They're sitting side-by-side on the couch in her office eating Thai takeout from the containers. Booth's eating something unnameable and Bones is having vegetarian Pad Thai. They occasionally steal food without even really realizing it.

"So," Booth begins, swallowing, "I don't really think Joel killed Marcy, do you?"

"No," Bones shakes her head thoughtfully, "We should probably talk to her pimp, see if he was dissatisfied in any way."

"Good idea, Bones," he chuckles, nodding vigorously in agreement, "We'll go see him after dinner, okay? Then I'll drop you at your apartment and we can get a fresh start tomorrow morning."

"Sounds great."

He smiles softly and she smiles softly back. It's almost normal.

_Almost_.

* * *

"Francis Little, a.k.a. Frankie Baby," he slaps down the criminal record in front of the five-foot-six-inches tall Hispanic-Italian man before him.

"Don't be hating what you ain't. You gots a sweet little babe over there, anyways," Frankie grins toothily at Brennan, leering and winking until she fidgets uncomfortably in her seat.

"Hey!" Booth shouts, "You really want sexual harassment on your file?"

He pretends to ponder this then answers with a slightly bemused chuckle, "Whaddya think?"

"Marcy Jenson," he growled out.

"Who?"

"Marcy Jenson," he slaps down her criminal record, "You might know her as Exotica."

"Ah, the little bitch. Boyfriend bought her out," he shrugs, "Whaddya wanna know?"

"She's dead, mister, and right now you're lookin' pretty damn good for it," snarls Booth.

"Hey, yo, man, I dig what you're sayin' and all, but I ain't seen the little whore since she got bought out."

Fifteen minutes pass and they leave, sighing heavily. Both Booth and Bones slide down the wall and Bones leans her head against his shoulder, his head atop hers.

"We're nowhere, Bones."

"I know, Booth."

And somehow, they both know without saying that they're not _just_ talking about Marcy Jenson here.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I am satisfied with Season 6 as it is. :P Hopefully Hannah or Hanna or Channah or however the fuck you spell it will be gone soon, though. :/**

**Disclaimer: Bones belongs to Fox and Hart Hanson. I own nothing.**

Three days later and they're nowhere new, but they do have a new suspect to consider; Marcy's disapproving younger brother, Isaac. Booth and Brennan are in the SUV on their way to interrogate him.

"Marcy was my older sister. She's the kind of girl you _used_ to go to for advice, until she got involved with that pimp when she was fourteen. Met him through a girlfriend, think she's still in the business, her name's Opal Preston. Nice, sweet girl, not the kind you'd exactly imagine as a whore, but hell, who am I to judge? I'm just nineteen," he shrugs, pursing his lips in consideration, "You ask me, try Opal. Yeah, I'm the last guy to be sobbing over Marcy's death, but she made her choice. Came to terms with it a long time ago."

They leave, frustrated and satisfied that both Isaac and his girlfriend, Jenny, have solid alibis; they'd been at the doctor's because Jenny had thought she might have been pregnant. Turns out she wasn't, but it was an airtight alibi and now it didn't seem so horrifying.

"We should check out Opal," Booth sighs, scrubbing a hand wearily over his face, "You never know. If she doesn't pan out, we'll try some of Marcy's clients."

"Sounds good," Brennan agrees easily, nodding her approval.

Tomorrow is Sunday and Brennan had gone shopping yesterday for a swimsuit; her two swimsuits were either too conservative or too revealing, and she'd needed a new one for a long time, anyways. She just hoped all would go as planned. For some odd reason she was feeling nervous. Okay, so she knew the reason. But she'd never say it.

_ Never_.

* * *

Opal has been in the business to long, Brennan concludes after six minutes in interrogation with her. She's guarded, jaded, tough. She stands at five-foot-two, with wavy gold hair that reaches her hips, a curvaceous figure, tanned skin, and hazel eyes. She is wearing a lot of makeup and is trying to distract Booth.

"So, where were you, say, oh, I don't know, November 16, at two in the morning?"

"Workin'," Opal snaps the gum she's been chewing obnoxiously, like a teenager and not a grown woman, "Cold as fuck. Some creep pulled a gun on me. Got the night off. Sat around the strip for a couple hours, went home. My boyfriend Tony can verify that for you."

"And he doesn't mind you're a whore?"

She shrugs mildly, "Finds it hot. Long as I allow a couple of threesomes here and there, Tony's all good with my business. Look, dude. I ain't seen Marcy for two years. We had a falling out. Simple as that, yo."

"What was it about?" pipes in Brennan; Booth shoots her a look but Opal rolls her eyes and sighs.

"It was about some money. I needed a loan. Marcy wouldn't give it to me, said Henry was more important," she shrugs, indifferent, "I got the money from my sister, Vicki. She don't ask questions, good girl. Like I was once."

"What for?"

"Gambling. Nothing major. It was just $600," she smiles wistfully, slightly sad, "Vicki gave me $250 of it, got about $150 from working. Tony loaned me out $50, and the remaining $150 I got from selling some old junk on eBay."

"Okay," he nods, "We'll be around to talk to Tony, verify your alibi. Here's my card, call if you're ever in trouble, okay?"

"And here's _my_ number," Opal grins wickedly, slapping down a piece of paper, "Call me if you ever need a good time."

She nods towards Brennan, "You too, sweetheart. Pretty little thing."

Booth chuckles and shakes his head. Brennan furrows her brow and purses her lips in confusion, crossing her arms across her chest.

"What?" she asks and he laughs again.

"Nothing. It's just kind of funny to see a girl, a _hooker_, no less, hit on you, Bones."

Then she's smiling and laughing, too, and it's halfway normal again.

"We're back to square one again, Bones," Booth sighs, sober now.

"I know," she frowns.

He grimaces slightly and she smirks sadly back.

Right now, unspoken words are the loudest of all.

* * *

They have finally found him. His name is Skipper Ross and he's Marcy's boyfriend of ten months. He'd wanted her to break up with Joel, leave him and start a life with him instead. He was a banker; he could help Marcy out and take good care of Henry. But she'd adamantly declined, they'd argued, she had laughed at his naivete in believing she actually loved him, and he killed her.

"Love kills," Booth stated. They were sitting outside on the steps of the mall. It was a pure statement of fact and Brennan shuddered at the certainty, the intensity, the sheer simplicity of his words. It was the truth, the whole, fucking, scary truth.

She sighed, "I'm hungry."

"Okay. What are you hungry for?"

"I was thinking of cooking up some leftovers from last night," she shrugs, grinning, "Want to join me?"

He smiles softly and nods, "Sure. I'd love to, Bones."

"Great," she stands and pulls him up, "It's lasagna, by the way, vegetarian. I have some leftover meatballs from when Dad came over Thursday night; I'll cook them up for you as well."

"Sounds good," he nods, "Thanks, Bones."

"You're very welcome, Booth," she is still grinning and he is still smiling and it's so, so nice and normal and the other shoe has _got_ to drop soon.

They're at her apartment; she's poured them a glass of red wine, each, and the lasagna and meatballs are in the oven, cooking. Booth's making a salad and some garlic bread. It's nice, really, really nice. They are talking and laughing and Brennan's started rummaging through her fridge for some fruit for dessert.

Dinner is amiable and nice. Conversation is friendly and it's almost normal for them, almost. Then they're dancing to some of her CD's because she suggested it. And even though they only had one glass of wine each and a cup of coffee he agrees. She grins and puts in a CD that she randomly grabs after skimming her shelf for a few minutes. They dance and talk and laugh until it's one in the morning.

"Well, Bones, Parker's gonna be at my place at seven-thirty. I should really be going," he sighs, unhappily.

She nods and walks him to the door, kissing his cheek hesitantly and saying, "Bye, Booth. Goodnight. See you and Parker tomorrow."

He nods absently, her lips leaving a molten burn on his cheek. When the door is closed he cannot help but grin like an idiot and touch the spot where a few seconds ago her beautiful, beautiful lips just were.

For the first time in five days, he sleeps very, very well.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I hope I did this justice! :D My friend, Hannah, hates Booth's Hannah. She says it is a disgrace to her good name. :P I LOVED Bones in the third episode. I also loved the end, bittersweet as it was. And I especially loved (and laughed with glee at until the bed shook and gramma asked if I was having a seizure) Booth's expression when Hannah moves in. He's all, "Oh shit." My gramma saw it too and saw why I was laughing and we died laughing and then my mom came in and said we needed to go to bed. :/ I am REALLY sorry for it taking so long. D: But, I'm trying! :P I think Burtonsville is in Illinois. Dunno. But I'm making it there, okay?**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

She woke up at eight, ate a quick, mild breakfast, and cleaned her apartment like a madwoman. Right now it was keeping her nervous brain from thinking too much. At noon she changes into her bathing suit; it is a navy blue and white striped tankini, not too revealing, nor too conservative. She pulls on a white terrycloth pullover and slides on her sandals. She is cooking them lunch of grilled cheese and tomato soup. When he knocks she hollers to let him in. She tells Parker that lunch is almost done; he needs to change, as does Booth, so they head off to her bathroom. She sighs and shakes her head, smiling, as she begins to hum softly to herself, something she often does while cooking. It is a habit she had had since she was a teenager; it keeps her mind from wandering and soothes her.

They eat, chatting amiably. She takes the bag she had packed for their afternoon with them to the pool. Brennan grabs three chairs and Parker cannonballs into the pool. She smirks fondly and watches as Booth joins his son in the heated indoor pool; then she sighs and begins to read the book she'd brought with her, something her agent had recommended she read.

"Bones!" Parker hollers, "Watch this!"

She looks up in time to see as Baby Booth jumps off the low diving board, flipping in midair before hitting the water. She laughs; caught up in the excitement, she peels off her coverup and sandals and jumps off the diving board into the pool. Both the Booth boys smirk and look at each other, nod, and proceed to splash her senseless.

"Stop! Stop!" she's laughing now; God help her, but she's having so much fun.

"Never!" cries Parker, splashing her more.

In the mayhem she's somehow lost track of the older Booth, and within the next second she feels someone tugging on her foot. She shrieks and laughs as he pulls her underwater with him. He grins at her and waves; frowning in concentration, she kicks him gently in the shin. Then somehow they're fighting underwater; before long, he's yanked her up and they've resurfaced and they're spurting water and gasping for air and laughing and he's holding her back against his chest while they calm down.

Then suddenly, not wanting to let go, not wanting to face the awkwardness that is sure to follow, he begins to tickle her. She squeals and kicks at him; his arms wrap tighter around her like a vise, holding her squirming body to him as he tickles her, both of them laughing. Then they hear something like a camera going off and turn to stare at Parker, who has since gotten out of the pool, grabbed Brennan's cell phone, and snapped a quick picture of them. Grinning, he tosses it carelessly onto her chair and jumps back in; the three of them laugh nervously and continue to swim and have fun, but it's not the same as before, of course.

They head back up to Brennan's apartment after swimming, and Booth and Parker shower and change in the bathroom while Brennan changes in her bedroom. Once in a pair of gray sweatpants and a black spaghetti-strap tank-top, she tugs on a white sweater that ties below her breasts and shows off part of her top. She pads into the living room, pulling her hair up into a loose, sloppy, lopsided bun atop her head, and starts a kettle for tea. She's sipping a cup of green tea and fixating on the news on the TV when Booth and Parker come out. She smiles softly, shyly at them.

Booth leans over and kisses her cheek, murmuring, "Thanks, Bones. Really."

Blushing, she replies, "No problem, Booth."

"Thank you Bones," Parker grins cheekily and hugs her tightly, "Bye, Bones. We had fun."

"Yeah, really," says Booth with a cheerful smile, "Thanks. Bye, Bones, I'll see you tomorrow?"

She nods, smiling broadly, reassuringly, as she answers quickly, perhaps too quickly, even, "Sure. Yeah."

Brennan watches them leave and sighs, closing her eyes and smiling wistfully. She chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief, and turns off the TV. Then she cleans her dishes and curls up on the couch with her laptop and begins to work on her book.

Still, she keeps seeing Parker, grinning happily as he snaps that picture. She wonders what they must have looked like, but she's too chicken to find out, so she sighs, frustrated, and continues to flow her angst and confusion and lies into her book, into the core of her characters, and the depth of emotion when she rereads what she's wrote two hours later makes her almost want to cry.

Then she sighs, puts away the laptop, and closes her eyes to meditate.

But all she sees is him. All she ever sees these days is him.

* * *

She's woken up at around three by the shrill, insistent ringing of her phone. Groaning, she lazily answers it.

"Brennan," she mumbles groggily.

"We got a case."

"Okay, where?" she asks, suddenly more alert.

"Burtonsville, Illinois," he says, "Flight to Chicago's at six. Sorry for the short notice, just got the case. It'll be a forty-five minute drive to the crime scene. That okay?"

"Yeah," she nods, swallowing, "Yeah. It's, um. It's fine."

"Bones? What's wrong?"

But she doesn't answer; she hangs up quickly and begins to shake. Once calm enough to think straight, Brennan stands, sighs, goes to the bedroom, and begins to pack. By four she's got enough for three or four days; she showers quickly, and twenty minutes later she's dressed and on her way to Dulles. They are in first class, thank God, and the flight is about an hour or so, maybe two hours. They grab their bags off the carousel and get the car rental. He insists on driving; she huffs out a sigh, rolls her eyes, and sits in the passenger seat. She turns on the radio to a rap station. He glares at her; she smirks sexily back, raising an eyebrow.

He sighs, "This is going to be a long ride."

"Yup," she agrees easily, grinning; he rolls his eyes happily.

It was going to be one hell of a car ride, that's for sure.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Gonna try to be less erratic with the updates; so sorry. :/ Anyways, some dialogue from 5x17 is used, some is trashed, some is twisted/changed, okay? And also, I may or may not change subtle things. But other than that, the case is pretty much canon. It'll hopefully be able to be stretched for two or three chapters; no guarantees, really, but I've had this sort of planned out for a while now, so I hope ya'll enjoy it. ;) I'm gonna change it to Illinois; sorry. :P**

**Disclaimer: By now you know anything you recognize sure as hell isn't mine; it's rightfully owned by Hart Hanson and Fox and God knows who else. Sorry. :/**

"Bones," he gently shakes her.

"What?" she mumbles sleepily, eyes still closed.

"We're here," he murmurs softly, "Come on, Bones. Dead body."

"Okay," she's alert now; he tries not to be disturbed that saying 'dead body' seems to wake her up.

Outside the SUV, she pulls on her Jeffersonian jumpsuit and pulls her hair up; he tosses her her kit, and they begin to walk towards the barn where the body is currently being housed. He remembers how she'd told him on the drive up about how she had gone to school here. It doesn't seem to fit her, for some odd reason.

"I can't believe you grew up in this area," he says as they're on their way towards the crime scene.

"Yes," she nods slightly, "I am an alumna of Burtonsville High."

"Ever bring a boy out here, and, uh..." he blushes furiously, unable to believe that he'd actually voiced that thought.

"And what? Touch his genitalia? No," she responds casually, ducking under the police tape.

"Whoa. Okay, I was thinking that maybe just a little smooching," he says, flustered and crimson as he ducks under the tape.

"I used to come here to find animals to dissect. I didn't have a boyfriend," she admits.

"Maybe because you were cutting up little woodland creatures? Maybe?" he suggests, chuckling a little at the image of Bones cutting up some poor, unsuspecting chipmunk.

By now they've reached the crime scene; a woman in a sheriff's uniform, curvaceous, with sandy skin and sandy hair and blue eyes, guards it.

"I'm Sheriff Rebecca Conway," she says, making no attempt to conceal the fact that she is so obviously checking out Booth, "You the federal backup?"

Booth digs out his badge and confirms, "FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth."

"Nice wheels," she responds dreamily, "Nice face and bod... very nice."

There's an awkward, hesitant pause before Booth replies, "Thank you."

"We know each other. Becky, right? I'm Temperance," Brennan says.

"Have I arrested you before, hun?" she asks, smirking and rolling her eyes.

"No," she says, perfectly serious, "You were my lab partner in chemistry at Burtonsville High."

"Are you absolutely sure? I have an excellent memory," she responds.

"Positive," Brennan replies, "Though you are thinner now, which is better for your cardiovascular system. In high school you were quite overweight, hence the derision from the other students."

"Yeah. I remember you now," she rolls her eyes, "You're Creepy Girl. So, you're in town for the reunion?"

Chuckling Booth butts in, "Ha ha ha. Reunion?"

"Yeah," she says, then boldly declares, "I need a date. If you're free."

"We're just here to inspect the remains," Brennan says.

"Oh. No surprise _there_," she rolls her eyes and gestures them into the barn, "Two girls were out here rolling around..."

"Two girls?" Booth asks.

"Yeah, it's the twenty-first century, sweetheart. Get with the program," she smiles, "Anyway, that critter ran into them with the skull on its head."

"It was probably eating the brains and eyes. Often scavengers-"

"Don't need the details, Morticia. I'm keeping this quiet until I know what we're dealing with," she huffs, rolling her eyes at Brennan and smirking seductively at Booth.

Brennan crouches down and picks up the skull, then observes, "Female... age, indeterminate. Judging by the lack of staining, the victim's head was severed postmortem."

"Ugh," moans Sheriff Conway, "No. Not cut up."

"Well, I'm glad you kept this quiet, Becky. There are probably more remains in the area," says Brennan.

"We're gonna need to search the bushes for more people parts, Lou!" Becky hollers, sighing.

The trio trudges out to the woods; it's surprisingly warm for March, but then again, it's almost April, now. Brennan was observing the ground; Booth the trees, and Becky, of course, Booth.

"Let's split up. We'll cover more ground that way," suggests Sheriff Conway.

Brennan nods, "Okay."

Booth looks at Conway and races after Brennan.

"I don't want the remains compromised," she informs Booth, not bothering to look up.

"Don't compromise the remains!" he hollers.

"She was a very careless lab partner," she explains.

Not quite realizing what makes him say it, Booth tells her, "You gotta go to your reunion, Bones. We already flew all the way out here."

"I'm not going. High school was not a happy time. For some reason, people didn't seem to like me," she says, frowning in concentration.

"Which is exactly why you have to go now. Reunions are made for you to smear your successes in other people's faces. Your accomplishments are gonna kill 'em!" he encourages; she rolls her eyes and crouches down as something piques her interest.

"I found something!" she announces triumphantly.

"Oh! Lou, stay right here," says Sheriff Conway, jogging up to where Booth and Brennan are examining the newly found remains.

"Where are the ribs, Bones?" asks Booth, frowning in confusion at the ribcage without any ribs.

"According to the legend," she says as she examines them, "They've been cooked and eaten."

"Legend? What legend?" he asks.

"They say a spirit lives in these woods. He takes over a person, makes them kill," Sheriff Conway says, a tad unimpressed.

"My senior year, a classmate was murdered and dismembered just like this," adds Brennan informatively.

"Ribs gone," pipes in Sheriff Conway.

"They never found the killer," continues Temperance as she stands slowly.

"The Butcher of Burtonsville High. He's back," says Becky gravely.

* * *

After a brief, but nonetheless helpful, discussion with the people back home, Brennan settles down in the bathtub, closing her eyes and sighing. She really hadn't wanted to ever go back... but she was here, in Burtonsville, Illinois, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. She had hated high school; in the long run, who hadn't? But with Booth... she squeezed her eyes shut harder and let out a shaky breath. She really didn't want him to know her, the old her, the one she'd put behind her years ago.

Her cell rings, and she snaps her eyes open. Letting out an annoyed little huff, she stands, grabs a towel, and answers it.

"Brennan," she says into the phone as she wraps the towel tightly around her body.

"Hey, Bones," Booth answers, "So, I talked with Sweets. He says we should probably go undercover at the reunion. You know, not to scare anybody. Says it'd be easier if I hid my FBI status. That okay with you?"

She sucked in a sharp breath, bit her lower lip, and replied, "Booth..."

"Please, Bones," he said softly, "Do it for her, okay?"

She nodded, then responded, sighing, "Okay, okay. Fine. But... please..."

"Please what?"

"Just... don't think less of me," she whispers before abruptly hanging up on him.


End file.
